Wings
by Ikkleosu
Summary: Wings A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu. Rated: MA (Caryl) Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is. **************************************
1. Chapter 1

**Wings** Part 1/?

A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu.

Caryl

Rated: MA

Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is.

NB: This is a slow burner Caryl, don't be hoping for smut any time soon. :D

"Don't be such a pussy, little brother. I've scoped it out. It's gonna be a breeze."

"I don't like it Merle. Stores, sheds, they're one thing, but robbing a house. It don't sit right with me." Daryl hissed at his brother, as they leaned against their bikes in the parking lot.

"A lot of shit don't sit right with you! But we gotta eat, and Phil ain't gonna be asking about your moral fortitude when he's breaking your arm over that two grand we owe."

"I know, I know," Daryl ducked his head to avoid his brother's gaze. "I just don't like it. Going into folk's houses? It's like you're getting into their lives, you know?"

"We ain't gonna be involved in no one's life, don't you worry brother. I told you. I got a tip on this place from Danny. He mows the yards for the whole street. The family's going away, camping or some such. And even if we did cross paths, they ain't gonna be a fuss. He's a fat pencil pusher with a mousey wife and a little girl. So boring you'd fall asleep just looking at them. But Danny says they got some lovely little trinkets. Easy to liberate, easy to sell. East money all round. But I can't do it without you."

"All right, quit the sales pitch. I never said I wouldn't do it. I just don't like it."

"So you said, so can we get going now you've made your little protest? Danny said they'll be gone all weekend anyway, but I want to get in there quick."

"Whatever." Daryl scuffed his boot in the dirt and shrugged his leather jacket more securely onto his shoulders. Merle was always pushing it, getting him involved in some scheme or plot or some ridiculous plan that he'd always swear would be the last. He felt the knot in his stomach that always seemed to grow and twist when he was following Merle. But what else could he do? He was sleeping on Merle's couch and the new brakes for the bike wouldn't pay for themselves.

They boarded their bikes and Merle led the way to the target house. They parked a block away behind some lock ups and climbed over a wall, fought through some trees and scrub before they landed square in white-picket-fence-land.

Merle indicated the house as they hopped over the fence and into the backyard. Daryl crouched behind some kind of tall shed while Merle poked around to check no one was home. After a moment Daryl realised the noise of bird song wasn't coming from the trees but were much closer. He poked his head up and saw that he was hiding behind a bird house.

Behind the mesh wire were a dozen or so little birds, most blue and yellow, hopping around, ruffling their feathers and trilling. He gave a half smile at their antics before a hiss from Merle brought him back to the job at hand. Swiftly he joined Merle at the door facing out to the yard.

"It's all clear. Car's gone from the drive." Merle took out his knife and started working on the lock, while Daryl looked around nervously.

"If any of the neighbours have those spy cameras, we're screwed Merle."

"Relax brother, I told you Danny done all the leg work. He's been in every John in the neighbourhood, and hell, half the bedrooms the way he tells it. This is the sweetest spot, no one will notice a thing. We'll be in and out in no time. That's got it." Merle silently pushed the door open. "You start down here, I'll go upstairs. Let's see what delights little Mrs Mousey has in her boudoir."

Daryl nodded his agreement. Even though the place was deserted he was still cautious. He liked to do thing quietly, his way, not like Merle shouting and swaggering.

He wandered from the utility room into the kitchen and swung his backpack down, ready to be filled with whatever would be easy to sell.

Shit, this wasn't going to be as easy as Danny had made out. The place was spotless; The countertops completely bare. No ornaments, no gadgets, radio, hell not even a microwave. The only sign of life was a couple of colourful pots on the window with some herbs sprouting out of them. He opened the drawers hoping for some silver and saw they too were a shrine to order. Each item was tidily resting in an appropriate compartment, all facing the same way. This was one fucked up housewife. She probably made her husband shower after he took a dump. Neat freaks made him uneasy.

A crash and a whoop from above him told him Merle was having more success than him and he sped up his search. The lower drawers gave up more joy, with some antique looking silverware and serving cutlery. He stuffed it into his bag.

It wasn't that he liked living in chaos, which with Merle and his Pop was all he knew growing up. He liked to be clean, even keeping his own set of dishes under his bed because he hated the way those two let mould grow on stuff before they washed it. But once he was living alone, he'd found a happy medium. He liked having his stuff around him - his favourite blanket on the sofa, his hunting stuff resting against the fireplace. Damn he missed that place.

Well, he best start making some money if he wanted to be free of Merle's couch and the screeching women he brought back most nights. He went back to his search with more vigour.

"That's more like it," he involuntarily said aloud as he entered the dining room. The far wall was covered in display cabinets full of silver trophies and those model houses some folks seemed to collect.

He started to empty the shelves into his bag. There were sports trophies, football, baseball, bowling and a few with little silver birds on top he guessed were for showing or breeding those birds he saw in the yard.

Everything was shiny and pristine except for one ragged looking little statue of a child in prayer. Daryl hesitated over it. It was pretty bashed up and worn, but it did look old. He slipped it into the bag alongside the clanging trophies and pulled open the drawers in the base of the cabinet as he heard Merle stomping about upstairs.

Here we go again.

The drawers were regimented and ordered beyond belief. Folders of paperwork neatly separated and labelled and colour-freaking-coded. He rifled through them swiftly. Credit card swiping and identity stealing weren't his thing, he didn't even know why he was looking or what for.

A piece of rough paper sticking out from the back caught his eye. He pulled on it and dislodged a folder that was labelled "recipes". It spilled open as he yanked it from the back of the drawer.

Inside it wasn't filled with pages torn out of homemaker magazines, but with various sizes and shapes of coloured paper. Each was adorned with glitter or dried macaroni or daubed with childish paint strokes. The kind of stuff he'd expected to see stuck to the fridge.

He frowned, remembering a drawing of a unicorn he'd done that his mom had taped to the pantry door. He'd been so proud of it for a few days, until Merle drew a dick on the unicorn and his dad had torn it down.

The memory of the irritation and resentment distracted him for a few moments, or he would have heard it - the sound of a car pulling up.

It was only the sound of several car doors slamming and a man's raised voice that broke him back to life.

He slid over to the corner and looked out the window.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The family were back. There they were exactly as Danny described, unloading the car while the man shouted and gesticulated.

Daryl hoped the silence from upstairs meant that Merle had seen them too.

Before he had a chance to call to his brother the front door opened and the woman came in and dumped a bag wearily in the hallway.

Daryl slipped back into the kitchen silently and unseen.

"Go into the bathroom and get cleaned up, sweetie. I'll bring you in a clean T-shirt in a bit."

From behind the kitchen door Daryl could see through the gap straight into the hall. He saw the woman usher a small blonde girl down the corridor.

The woman stroked the girl's hair softly as she spoke.

"And don't worry about your Dad, he'll calm down," she said in a quieter voice to the child who was hanging her head and trailing a denim jacket on the ground.

The woman stood looking out of the open front door as the girl disappeared from view.

Shit, she was just going to stand there at the bottom of the stairs blocking Merle's only exit.

"That's the last time I do anything nice for this family. You always find a way to ruin it," the man exclaimed angrily as he entered the house, his arms full of sleeping bags that he dumped at his feet.

"Ed, it's not her fault. You know Sophia gets car sick in the back. She'd have been ok if you'd have let her ride up front." The woman replied in a pleading voice to her husband's back.

He turned round angrily and Daryl saw the woman take an instinctive step back.

"I'm going to let a nine year old navigate, am I? She can't sit up front, that's your position, helping me. She needs to learn her position. It'll be a lesson for her. It's all in her head anyway, she could have stopped herself getting sick if she wanted to. You mollycoddle her."

The woman stayed silent at his tirade and dipped her head.

"And now I have to put all this crap back in the attic," he continued.

"Leave it, Ed. Maybe we could try again tomorrow before breakfast, we'd still get 2 nights out." The woman had reached out and put a calming hand on her husband's arm.

"No, you had your chance. The pair of you are so ungrateful for all I do, I don't think you deserve to go camping. We'll stay here, and tell Sophia she's grounded once she cleans up. And you make sure you wash everything she had on. I don't want this house stinking of vomit."

He ranted as he gathered up the bags and started up the stairs.

Daryl drew in his breath. If the man confronted Merle, this could get messy. His mind swiftly played through the possibilities and he flashed through a vision of the Dixon brothers standing trial for robbery with manslaughter. He'd managed to avoid jail for 36 years, he didn't want to start now over some freaking bird trophies.

And Merle, with his record he wouldn't see daylight again.

His heart stopped as the woman walked into the dining room, a balled up towel in her arms.

Before Daryl could decide which way to run a shout came from upstairs.

"What the he..."

The man didn't even finish the sentence before he heard Merle's voice give an unintelligible groan and the ceiling shook with a thud.

"Carol! Get my gun!" the man's strained voice came from above.

The woman froze then hurried over to the dresser in the dining room and with shaking hands searched in one of the drawers.

Sweat began to trickle down Daryl's back. If he made a run for the back door he'd pass her line of vision. If he ran past her, she might already have the gun in her hand and shoot at him. Should he grab her, hold his knife to her throat and use her as collateral to get him and Merle out of there? The thought made him feel sick.

For seemingly endless moments he stood watching her search, while thuds, rumbles and shouts reigned above them. He really wasn't going to have much choice.

Just as he took a step from behind the door a crash from the hallway attracted both their attentions and she turned away.

They watched as Merle leapt from the stairs and sprinted out the still open front door. The man rolled after him, tangled in sleeping bags. He struggled to his feet as Merle ran down the drive and swiftly swerved into another yard and out of sight.

Daryl's heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he fought with relief that Merle had escaped without killing anyone; terror that he was still trapped; and anger that Merle had just left him there. He was even sure he could hear the distant purr of Merle's bike.

He took a step back to his hiding spot behind the door, and breathed hard. Okay, keep calm, all you have to do is wait for the attention to be elsewhere and you can go out the back door. Just wait, he told himself.

The man staggered into the dining room as the woman rushed over to him.

"Ed, what happened?"

"Some sick bastard was upstairs. We need to call 911, he had a knife. He could have killed me. Shit, look it was a burglary." He pointed to the empty shelves in the cabinet.

"Oh. Thank goodness Sophia is still in the bathroom. Good job we got home when we did and disturbed him." The woman put her hand to her mouth and looked around anxiously.

"Good job? He could have killed me! And where the hell were you with my gun?" The man's tone had suddenly changed. Daryl recognised it and it made him uneasy.

"I.. I couldn't find the key for the cabinet." The woman half -heartedly rummaged in the still open dresser drawer.

"I told you to leave it in the lock. You never listen to me! Your stupidity could have got me killed! You're a waste of time!" He rounded on his wife, who visibly shrank away from him.

"I'm sorry Ed, but you're okay. It's okay now."

He grabbed her wrist as she tried to reach out to placate him.

"No thanks to you, stupid woman!" He raised his other hand and slapped her across the face.

The sound made Daryl flinch and every sinew in him tense.

The woman involuntarily twisted away from the slap but her husband still had hold of her wrist. He pulled her arm up and back. The woman gasped and winced.

"You never learn! And this time your stupidity could have left you a useless fucking widow. What would you do without me, huh? You'd be sorry then." He twisted her wrist further and further.

From his spot in the kitchen Daryl could see her face, see the pain and the fear. Memories flooded back to him. It was all too familiar. The words. The tone. The pain.

"I'm sorry now, Ed, I am. Please. Sophia will be out any second," she pleaded.

"Then she'll know what a useless fucking specimen of a mother she has who's so stupid she got her Daddy killed!"

With every other word he hit her.

The first span her around as he let go her wrist.

The second sent her sprawling to the ground.

The third made her cover her head with her hands.

But the fourth was the one that did it.

It was the punch that tipped the watching man over the edge.

As Ed raised his fist for the fifth time, towering over the huddled figure of his wife he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun round, but before he could see a face or a figure, a fist came through the air, connected with his jaw and knocked him back. A second punch was all it took to knock him out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wings** Part 2/?

A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu.

Caryl

Rated: MA

Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is.

NB: This is a slow burner Caryl, don't be hoping for smut any time soon. :D

Carol removed her hands from her face when Ed's fist failed to connect with her body. She looked up to see why he'd stopped, expecting to see Sophia standing in the door way, but what she saw was a strange man punching her husband.

She was frozen, a million thoughts rushing through her head. Was it the man from upstairs? Had he come back to finish them off? Was he going to rape her, kill her? And Sophia, God, Sophia? Had she locked the bathroom door?

But in an instant her questions were answered because as soon as Ed's body slumped to the ground, the man was on the move. His bag clanged and thumped as he ran past her and out the front door. She barely even caught a glimpse of his face.

She stayed crouched, huddled, waiting for something else to happen, but it never came. She was met only with silence and the ticking of the large clock above the dresser. Ed didn't move.

Tentatively she leaned over his prone body. He was breathing. He didn't appear to have any injuries other than a bloodied face. She breathed a sigh of relief, but there was something else there, another feeling she didn't want to acknowledge - disappointment.

She shook her head and stood up. What if there were more of them, what if they were still in the house? Thinking fast she dashed into the kitchen and pulled open the drawer. Ah, they'd been here. Half her silver wear was missing, but she grabbed the old meat cleaver she kept for splitting ribs and dashed back into the hallway.

"Sophia, honey, are you in there? Are you okay?" Carol called softly, her head pressed against the bathroom door.

"Mom! What's happening? I heard Daddy shouting, and lots of noise. I got scared so I locked the door." The young girl's voice came back from the other side, echoey and small.

"Good girl. It's okay, it's robbers. You stay there until I tell you it's safe. You only open the door for me, you understand?" Carol tried to make her voice sound confident and unconcerned.

"Yes, ma'am." Sophia's voice wavered but Carol admired her daughter's bravery.

She picked up the cordless phone in the hall with her left hand and dialled 911 with her thumb, her right hand wielding the knife as she looked around edgily.

The dispatcher promised her a patrol car would be with her shortly, and with that reassurance in mind she stealthily entered each room in the house, knife outstretched in front of her.

She quickly satisfied herself that all culprits had left and returned to the kitchen. Dropping the knife, she grabbed a towel to run under the cold faucet. That was when she noticed the back door in the utility room standing open. She went to shut it, then thought of finger prints and stopped herself.

Instead, she picked the knife back up and ran back to Ed. He was already coming round when she placed the cool, damp rag on his forehead.

"What...what happened?" he groaned as he gently prodded his swollen jaw.

"The robber came back, or he had an accomplice... I don't know."

Ed looked at her, for a moment dazed and confused until he took in Carol's injuries. Then Carol saw his face change, just for a second, as he clearly remembered what he'd been doing before he'd been on the receiving end. There was a flash of guilt and shame before the old hard expression returned.

"I called 911. They're on their way."

She thought it best to interject, just in case he... Well, just in case.

He nodded and struggled to his feet.

"Just as well, I look forward to getting the police on the trail of the animals that did this to us."

"This" likely meant the robbery, but Carol sensed the undertone, the instruction hidden in the line.

"Where's Sophia?" he continued.

"She's safe in the bathroom, I told her not to come out until I said it was okay," Carol replied as they both headed out into the hall.

"Sophia, it's your Daddy. It's safe. You can unlock the door now," Ed called as he jiggled the handle.

"Mom?" Sophia's scared voice sought confirmation.

"Sophia, now if I say it's safe, it's safe. Get on out here." Ed's voice had taken on a tinge of anger.

"Your Daddy's right, it's fine," Carol added and Ed glared at her in response, as the sound of the door being unlocked followed with a wet-haired Sophia emerging in her stained, puke covered clothes.

Carol rushed her into a hug, holding her tight against her body before Ed pulled on Sophia's shoulder to face him.

"Look what those bad men did to your Mom and me? They broke in, stole our things, messed up our house and then beat your Mom and me."

Sophia glanced back and forth between them looking terrified and confused.

"So you run along and get some clean clothes on so you can tell the police what you heard of the bad men robbing us and nearly killing your Mom and me, like a big girl."

"Ed please, she's scared enough as it is. She didn't see anything, she doesn't know what happened. I'll tell the police all they need to know."

She was sure he'd pick up the insinuation, just as she had his. They'd done this dance too many years for them not to know their roles. It was a long time since she'd wondered what to say and he'd pleaded and begged for her to cover up for him. Of course, it was also a long time since he promised he'd never do it again.

She'd lie for him, as she always did. At least this time she didn't have to create an imaginary cabinet door or paint herself as a clumsy idiot.

The police officers arrived within minutes and thankfully they weren't too interested in Sophia since they had two eye witnesses.

"And then he just ran out of the house," Ed rounded off, giving the older male officer his version of events. "I came into the dining room then, to check on Carol and that's when he came back..."

"And you're sure it was the same man?" the officer interjected.

"I'm not sure it was," Carol said nervously.

"I don't know," Ed continued, "see I didn't see him. The coward got me from behind, then he cold-cocked me and that was when he roughed up my wife. I was too dazed to see him clearly."

Carol was irritated at the unnecessary twisting of the facts. She hoped the young female cop who kept searching her face wouldn't pick up on it.

"Did you get a good look at him Mrs Peletier?" She queried.

"N..no..." Carol's voice was shakier than she realised. Just thinking about those few moments filled her with more questions than she liked. "He hit me, and pushed me down and then ran. I can give you a rough description of him?"

Once she'd described him the best she could, Ed led the policeman around the house to show what had been touched and removed, and Carol took the female officer to see the door into the yard.

The officer confirmed it was the point of entry and went out into the yard to look for footprints. Carol lagged behind, crossing her cardigan across her body as the day's events began to take their toll on her.

"Oh, what pretty birds," the officer exclaimed on seeing the aviary. "What kind are they?"

"Lineolated Parakeets, Linnies," Carol answered automatically as the police officer went closer to look at the birds hopping around.

"They're so sweet. Don't they mind being caged liked that? Wouldn't they be better out flying around?" the officer asked as she gently tapped the mesh.

"No, they were bred in captivity. They don't know anything else."

"But even still," the officer pressed on. "They must have a natural instinct to fly? Isn't it cruel?"

"They wouldn't be able to cope in the wild. They'd just get eaten by cats or birds of prey. They have a happy life. They can fly around safely in the cage, they get fed and watered and looked after. They wouldn't chatter and sing if they weren't happy," Carol explained.

"Hmm".

The officer didn't seem convinced and to be honest Carol wasn't convinced herself. It was always Ed's passion; she just had to go along with it.

The officer wandered off to look around the perimeter as Carol lingered looking at the birds. There was one in particular she liked. It had a dark patch over one eye. Sophia called it Captain Jack because she said it made it look like a pirate with an eye-patch. Captain Jack never seemed to be as lively as the others, and always seemed to be perching by the door, alone, as if waiting for a chance to slip out.

By the time the police had finished their evidence gathering and the locksmith had been to fit new locks on all the doors, it was late. Carol fixed a quick dinner from the food she'd packed in the cooler for camping. None of them were really hungry and seeing Sophia miserably picking at the food just irritated Ed more, so Carol had sent her up to get ready for bed.

"I need to look out all the insurance paperwork and call them tomorrow. What a pain in the ass that'll be!" Ed mumbled as Carol cleared away the dishes. She glanced up towards the dresser with the drawer full of paperwork, and that's when she noticed the glittery paper hanging out of the half-open drawer. Ed obviously hadn't spotted it yet.

"I'll find it, Ed, you need a rest. Go into the den and watch some TV. I'll bring you a beer," Carol tried to sound as relaxed as she could.

"Yeah I guess, but don't go forgetting," Ed called as he headed off to the den.

As soon as he was out of the room, Carol rushed over to the drawer and pulled the "recipe" folder out. She put it all back together hurriedly and found a new spot for it, out of the way in the kitchen. Ed would go mad if he saw it. He hated her being sentimental.

After her sterilisation he'd made her throw out all of Sophia's baby clothes, and he never liked her keeping any of the work Sophia brought back from kindergarten or school. "It's not like she's gonna be Van Gogh, so what's the point?" he'd said,the first time she'd stuck a portrait of their family, drawn with chubby little crayons, on the fridge.

She'd given up arguing over it pretty quickly but she decided she'd secretly keep one piece a year, at least. And some days, looking through the bright, colourful depictions of Sophia's world was all that got her through.

She placed the insurance paperwork onto the arm of Ed's chair, handed him a beer and went to check on Sophia.

"I've got a surprise for you." She smiled warmly as she entered Sophia's room with her arms behind her back.

Sophia sat up quickly in bed with interest, as Carol held out her hands to reveal an open can of soda.

"But I'm not allowed soda after dinner, and never in my bedroom. Daddy said it attracts ants!" Sophia expressed worriedly.

"Well this is an unusual day, and Dr Rice told me that flat cola is good for settling your tummy when you've gotten sick."

Encouraged, Sophie took a gulp and hiccupped.

"It's still fizzy!"

"Well, okay, flat-ish," Carol replied as they both giggled softly. "Just promise me you'll brush your teeth extra and put the can in the trash first thing. I won't tell Daddy if you won't."

Sophie nodded earnestly as she took another sip.

"Mom, will he come back? The burglar who hurt you?"

"No sweetie, he'll know the police will be checking up on us. He'll stay far away from here."

"I'm still scared," Sophie continued, wriggling under her blankets.

"I know," Carol reassured her and stroked her hair. "But you don't have to be. He only hit out because we got in the way. He just wanted to steal some things; he wasn't here to hurt us. And your Daddy saw him off quickly."

She'd told her daughter bigger lies over the years.

Carol fussed with the blankets. Really Sophia didn't need tucked in every night anymore, but Carol liked to do it anyway. It was their time, when Sophia would open up about her worries or just tell her things she couldn't say in front of Ed. It was their little girls' club.

"They won't come back, but if you get scared just call for me. I'll leave your door open and the hall light on, okay?"

Sophie nodded, took another sip of cola and settled down. Carol kissed her goodnight and said a prayer with her before heading back downstairs.

She was relieved to see Ed fast asleep in front of the Weather Channel and she gave silent thanks it wasn't sport, sport always riled him up.

Weary to the bone, she ran herself a bath while tidying up the mess of the drawers strewn across the room. It didn't take long, and at last she was able to sink her slender body into the tub.

It was the first time she'd let herself play over the day. She'd been robbed before when she was at college. It wasn't pleasant, but it didn't affect her the way it did some folks. She wasn't precious about someone going through her things, after all Ed combed through everything she owned so constantly she never felt much was really hers. Although that prayer statue that had been her mom's, that hurt. But what was one more thing taken away from her?

She thought about what she'd told Sophia. He hadn't meant to hurt them. No, but he had meant to hurt Ed. Why? She knew Ed, understood why it happened. The break-in had shaken him, made him feel less in control. It had pierced his manhood where it hurt most - his ability to protect his family. So he took it out on her, because that was all he knew to do.

Oh yes, she had the pop-psychology down. She'd lost count of the amount of self-help and psychology books she'd read at the library while Sophia was at story-time or doing homework. It helped Carol cope when she felt she understood him more. She blamed him less.

But this man, why did he attack Ed like that? Was it just to take out the threat so he could escape? If he'd come in the back way, he could have slipped out the same way, especially with the distraction Ed was providing.

Why did he take on Ed and leave her alone if he was just some violent thug? Somehow it all didn't sit right.

Was it he or them? She closed her eyes and tried to visualise the two incidents. Was it the same man or not? They both had on leather jackets and jeans, roughly the same height, dirty, sandy hair.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open. It was definitely two separate men. It had come back to her, his face, the one who punched Ed out. Or rather it was his eyes. He'd looked at her under dipped head, side-long, for just a second before he'd run out.

His eyes. They were different, kind of swollen. They looked like he'd spent his whole life crying.

She contemplated calling the officer who'd left his card in case she remembered more. But she doubted "eyes like he'd been crying" would be much help to them.

Below her she heard the sounds of Ed stirring and switching everything off. She sighed knowing it was time to reluctantly leave the soothing warm water, which had admittedly cooled a degree. Still, it wasn't all bad.

She knew Ed wouldn't lay a hand on her again, not so soon. He never did. Whether it was guilt, shame or just because he didn't want to raise too many suspicions she didn't know. Whatever it was, after a beating was when she felt most relaxed. It was like the air had cleared after a thunderstorm. With fresh bruises on her cheeks, she didn't need to walk on eggshells waiting for it to happen -at least, not for a couple of weeks.

Ed kissed her on the cheek but didn't say much before turning his back on her and falling asleep. To her surprise, Carol drifted off quickly. But all night a man with eyes like he'd spent his whole life crying stalked her dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wings** Part 3/?

A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu.

Caryl

Rated: MA

Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is.

NB: This is a slow burner Caryl, don't be hoping for smut any time soon. :D

Daryl turned over on the lumpy couch and pulled the blanket up over his head. He hoped it would drown out the enthusiastic sex noises coming from Merle's bedroom. It didn't. Merle's guest was making up in volume what she lacked in taste, clearly.

He knew the exploits going on in the other room wasn't what was keeping him awake. He ran over the events of the day again and again, each time screwing up his face at the memory of what an idiot he'd been. Knocking someone out and exposing yourself as an intruder in the process - damn easy ways to land yourself in prison. He'd fought all these years, learned so much, to risk throwing it all away over what? Some woman; some stranger?

She wasn't special. She wasn't the only woman having her boyfriend or husband or father lay his hands on her. There were probably hundreds of them feeling the sting right now. What the fuck was he meant to do about it? He wasn't Superman, wasn't some knight on a horse. He couldn't save them all. Hell, he didn't want to. He liked staying in the shadows, letting the world's eyes skim over him onto something shinier. So why had he stepped out of the shadows this time? He wasn't sure why.

The high-pitched giggle got louder as Merle's bedroom door opened and he exited with his companion.

"That's right, Sugar, I'll call you when I'm back and you can burn a whole right through my pocket in the lingerie store," Merle leered as he patted her ass and ushered her to the door.

She squealed with joy, clapped her hands and turned round to plant a wet kiss on Merle. He returned it before handing her the purse she'd left hanging by the door. The curvaceous brunette slipped her skyscraper heels onto her bare feet, glanced towards Daryl and left.

Daryl had tried not to stare. He hated to admit it to even himself, but he was jealous. It wasn't that his eyes were so drawn to her body. He'd seen it and a hundred like it in every strip joint in the state. He just resented her very presence. It was the easy way Merle had lured her into his bed that grated on Daryl. Sure, Merle's womanly wooings got as many slaps as lays but it never seemed to bother the laidback lothario either way.

Daryl envied that. He'd made a perfect cloak of indifference over the years with woman, but part of him ached to throw it off. He knew what it would mean though, and he wasn't prepared to have his heart ripped out. His way was safer. Safer but sometimes it just tasted of bitterness.

He sat up and pulled his shirt on. He wasn't going to get sleep any time soon. He lit a cigarette just as Merle sauntered back into the room with a couple of beers. He threw one to Daryl, popped his own and threw himself into the armchair with an air of smug satisfaction.

"Your happy face broke? Today was a good day," he grinned as he took a swig of foaming beer and took in Daryl's demeanour.

Daryl huffed.

"I already got twelve-hundred for that gold. Man, there was a shit-load. That broad must get a necklace every time she lets him fuck her," Merle continued.

Or every time he beats her, Daryl thought.

"And I've still got some of the more... identifiable items to offload, let alone your haul. Easy way to make two grand in ten minutes."

"Easy?!" Daryl spluttered. "Nearly getting shot easy, is it? Luck is what it was."

Merle just grinned in response.

"Exactly, lucky it was. A fine haul and a little exercise into the bargain, like I said a good day."

Daryl's anger began to rise at Merle's flippancy.

"You coulda been killed, we both coulda been killed and you just fucked off and left me there," Daryl spat, before taking a swig of beer and swiping his mouth.

"I ain't your baby sitter," Merle replied, the smile fading fast. "And you got away clean anyway, didn't cha? You didn't have 200lbs of 'burbs standing in your way, all you had to do was slip out the back way avoiding little Miss Prim. I thought even you could manage that without me holding your hand."

Daryl turned his head away and hoped he could hide his face. Merle could always read him so well. He'd known just by Daryl's face the first time he'd snuck a ride on Merle's bike. He'd whipped 13 year old Daryl's butt good and proper that day. Daryl prayed his face wouldn't betray him again.

"I don't like doing houses," he mumbled, hoping Merle wouldn't ask too many questions. If he knew what Daryl had done, he'd do more than whip his ass.

"So you said," Merle responded wearily. "Let's see what you got outta this job you hated so much."

Daryl reached over the arm of the couch and slid his bag across the floor to Merle, who threw it open and started sorting through the contents.

"Nice...yeah, very nice... melt that down… what's this piece of junk?" Merle pulled out the little worn statue of the girl in prayer and held it up.

Daryl shrugged.

"Dunno, looked old."

"Old like a cigarette butt," Merle replied. "It's cheap crap."

He threw it across the room so that it landed on a pile of Daryl's clothes. It sat facing Daryl, staring him down.

"Why did Mom never leave him?" Daryl asked after several moments silence.

"What you talking about?" Merle was confused by the non sequitur and carried on sorting and mentally adding up.

"Why didn't she leave him when we was young? Why did she stay?"

Merle paused in his actions and looked up at Daryl, still not following his brother's train of thought.

"Ha, he gave her the two things she loved most in the world..."

Daryl's head snapped up at the sudden sentimentality.

"...smokes and booze," Merle smirked.

"I'm serious. She coulda taken us, gone anywhere, we woulda looked after her."

"Oh yeah, sure," Merle responded, sarcasm dripping from his droll mouth. "All she wanted was to lay in bed, listenin' to Patsy Cline and pickling her liver. As long as we were out of hair, she didn't care what he did."

Daryl frowned. His memories of their mother had a much softer focus than those of his older brother.

"She loved us," he protested.

"But not enough to stop him beating the shit out of us," Merle replied, looking more thoughtful and sipping his beer slowly now. "She made her choice, brother. It's in the past... And this is our future."

He held up a crystal figurine of a bird in flight so that the sun glinted off the facets in a multi-coloured dazzle.

Daryl couldn't take it anymore. He pulled on his boots and sat on the stoop to finish his cigarette and beer.

Was it a choice for her to stay? Maybe she felt she there was no other way. Maybe she thought something was worth it. Security. Money. Something.

By the time he went back inside Merle had dozed off in the recliner, the empty beer bottle dangling from his hand. Daryl took the opportunity to grab some sleep in the only bed in the dank apartment.

When he finally drifted off the scene from the dining room in the perfect house replayed over in his dreams. Sometimes he was watching; sometimes he was the husband; but most often it was him crouching in fear as the man beat him again and again.

He woke with the sun, feeling vulnerable and helpless. He dressed quickly and went back into the front room to pick up a few things. Merle stirred when he picked up his crossbow.

"What cha doing?" he mumbled.

"Going hunting," Daryl replied heading for the door.

"Take this," Merle slurred as he half-asleep as he staggered to his feet and threw some rolled up bills at Daryl. "That'll keep you right until I get back, and make sure to give Danny a cut."

He waved behind his head as he dozily headed to the bedroom.

Standing still as stone in the wood, Daryl finally felt at peace. Two rabbits tied to his belt and his ears pricked for any movement gave him a sense of normality. This was who he was, what he did. Nature; animals; he knew them. Stay away from people. It gets messy; far messier than the blood on his jeans when he'd gut his game.

But he was lying and part of his brain was completely aware of the lie. It kept quiet when he drove down that street; it stayed silent when he hunted for animals further and further to the west side of the trees; and it didn't grab him by the shoulders every time the little China figure bumped against his ribs in his vest pocket. When the wall came into sight, it could stay slumbering no more and Daryl could no longer deny why he'd come here.

He found a bush to stash his crossbow under - the last thing he needed was that in his armoury. In a second he had hopped over the wall and was back in the garden.

It was mid-morning judging by the light, and like most suburbs it seemed like a ghost town. Kids at school, husbands at work, wives likewise or running errands. All he could hear was those birds.

In fact, all he could hear was a bird - singular. It was squawking angrily. With no sign of human life visible, he stepped out of his hiding spot reached into his pocket and pulled out the little statue.

He couldn't say why he was doing it, what it meant, he just knew he had to do it and that it would say something, send some message he himself hadn't even formulated yet.

As he placed it carefully on the ground he saw the squawker. One of the birds had got its claw tangled in the mesh. It was panicking and flapping at uneasy angles trying to pull itself free.

Instinctively Daryl pulled out his knife. He stuck his fingers through the mesh and managed to grab hold of one of the wings. With his other hand he worked the knife under the claw, sawing off the tips of the two overgrown toes that were causing the problem.

The bird immediately pulled away as soon as it was free. It flew a victory lap around the cage before coming back to land on a perch just above Daryl's head. It tilted its head and winked its eyes, one of which was covered by a dark patch. It seemed to be thanking him. Daryl gave a half smile thinking how lucky it was to be that side of the wall. If it had been in the woods he'd have as likely shot it as saved it.

As that thought teased him he subconsciously looked up.

She was there, standing at the utility room window.

Their eyes connected. Daryl stopped breathing waiting for her to reach for the phone or run for her husband, but she didn't move. She just stood there looking confused.

Quickly Daryl came to his senses and took a step back. His boot knocked against the figurine and it toppled over and started rolling past him and towards the house.

Daryl fled back over the wall. He ran blind. All he could see was her face. He could still make out the bruises on her chee


	4. Chapter 4

**Wings** Part 4/?

A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu.

Caryl

Rated: MA

Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is.

NB: This is a slow burner Caryl, don't be hoping for smut any time soon. :D

Author's Notes: Thanks to JackandHoney for the bird help. :D

Carol stared. The lurch she left in her stomach when she'd seen the sandy haired man in the yard had passed quickly. The sight of him with a knife in hand doing who-knows-what to the bird house should have terrified her, but almost immediately she sensed his demeanour was not one of violence.

She saw his relaxed shoulders, the tilt of his head and although she could only see part of his face she could tell he was smiling softly. That was, until he saw her.

She had almost forgotten their respective positions. In those few moments of observation she'd lost herself. She forgot he was an intruder; Forgot she was a victim. Now she was a voyeur spying on some private moment in this man's life. So when their eyes met and he balked she felt confused. And even when she flashed back into reality she was no clearer on the situation in front of her.

Why on earth was he scared? Why was he even here again?

As soon as vanished over the wall, she opened the back door and stepped into the yard and saw it almost instantly. Her mother's prayer statue was lying in the grass a few feet away.

Dew from the grass clung to the faded features of the girl's face, as she picked it up and dried it with the edge of her shirt. She rubbed the girl's head and remembered the thousands of times her mother had done the same to her. Every night she'd say a prayer with her and rub her head as she tucked her in. And every night Carol would turn over and look at the little brunette girl in perpetual prayer on her nightstand and she'd believe that little girl was carrying on Carol's prayers for her while she slept.

He'd returned it to her; the mystery man, the robber, the violent criminal who'd risked detection to punch her husband had brought back a worthless memento. She was more confused than ever.

She stood the figurine on the work surface in the kitchen and stared at it. What was that little girl praying for now?

In the end she took it upstairs and tucked her into her nightstand drawer, behind her Bible, behind her Valium and beside her vibrator. She'd be safe there. Ed would get to the Valium and never look further. It was as though Ed's guilt hid in the dark at the back of the drawer and he couldn't face exposing it.

"Carol, what the hell have you been doing to my birds?" Ed's harsh voice coming from the yard as the evening sun began to dip behind the trees. Carol had carried on her day as normal. She'd ran errands, cleaned the house, picked Sophia up from school and started on dinner. The man had never left her mind. It was though he was frozen in time, standing in the yard looking at her with those sad eyes of his. That image of him was constantly with her, like a soldier standing guard in her mind. But she'd forgotten about all about the bird house.

She ran out to the yard to see Ed with one of the birds in his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Ed held the bird up to show her.

"His toes have been clipped, look!"

So, that's what he'd been doing.

"And look, the wire here's all bent. What the hell happened? I bet it was one of those damn neighbour kids trying to steal my treasures. They probably want to sell them for drugs or something. Wait until I get my hands on them."

He gently placed Captain Jack back on his perch. Carol had to think fast.

"I did it, Ed. "

His head whipped round to glare at her. "You did what?"

"He got caught in the wire. I had to do it to cut him free. He was going to hurt himself. I did it to save him."

Carol looked pleadingly into Ed's eyes, but was met only with cold rage.

"Save him? And what good to me is a deformed bird? I can't show him like that! He has to be perfect. You've ruined him, you stupid woman."

He grabbed hold of Carol's left hand and pulled it towards his body. Carol stumbled forward slightly and tried to stop herself bumping into him.

"Please, Ed, I'm sorry," she said quietly. They were words she'd said hundreds maybe thousands of times. Each time she hoped they would reach him and make him stop. But that time wasn't now.

"Sorry won't grow back his toes. I think you need to learn a lesson, maybe I should clip your toes... " As he spoke he bent back the fingers on Carol's hand that he held in his vicious grip.

Carol winced and just when she thought she might scream with the pain, another voice rang out.

"Daddy!"

Immediately Ed let go Carol's hand at the sound of Sophie's voice. They both look round to see Sophia standing at the door.

"Mr Sloane's on the phone. He says it's urgent," Sophia called from her position.

Carol stuffed her throbbing hand under her right arm and wondered how much her daughter had seen.

Ed grunted and stomped back into the house. He looked worriedly at Sophia but she didn't show any signs of understanding what she'd interrupted. Carol saw the little girl give her father a small smile as he brushed past her.

Sophia hopped down from the step and wandered over to her mother's side.

"Did something happen to Daddy's birds?" she asked as she gently touched the damaged wire and looked up at Captain Jack, who was in his usual spot.

Carol kept her painful hand tucked under her arm and moved position so it wasn't obvious to Sophia.

"He got caught up in the wire, so I had to cut his claws so he could get free. He'll be okay, they grow back," Carol reassured.

"We could get him a peg leg and a little crutch until they do, then he'd look like a real pirate, huh Mom?" Sophia smiled up at Carol for approval.

As always, the sight of Sophia's smile made all the pain go away.

"Ah but what kind of bird does a pirate parrot have on his shoulder?" Carol gave a little chuckle as she replied to her grinning daughter.

The phone call distracted Ed from his anger, as it was good news. A new store was opening and the area manager had had to pull out, so they wanted Ed to go over and supervise. It would mean a night or 2 in a motel which was news Ed broke to Carol as if it would come as a blow. She hid her delight well.

It was only when bedtime came and Ed had given the birds their night time check-up did he remember and dish out Carol's punishment. The immediate punishment she was used to, and she just kept focussing on Sophia's smile in her mind until it was over. As Ed rolled onto his side of the bed, he decreed that he felt she should take care of the birds for a while to teach her responsibility.

Carol took on this responsibility easily. She enjoyed the quiet methodical work of sweeping out, cleaning up, giving the darling littlecreatures fresh water and food. And every morning, after she'd finished she'd make a cup of hot tea and she stand at the utility room window drinking it, watching the treeline and yearning to see hands land on the top of the wall.

But days passed and he didn't appear. The image of him in her mind got pushed further back and replaced with laundry, calendars, grocery lists and meetings to attend. On Thursday, all the things in her mind seemed to be picked up and thrown about and the day fell apart.

Ed had been away 2 nights, and - as if to prove everything he said ever said was right - on the second morning she and Sophia slept in. Rushing around to get Sophia to school, she forgot all about her new morning routine. Only after a visit to the pharmacy, and a long conversation with Mrs Albany next door about the state of the schools did she remember the birds.

By now it was well into the afternoon. If Ed knew... oh if he found out. She grabbed the large bag of food and the broom and headed out to the bird house. Very quickly she lost herself in the chore, relieved with the cool shade, and tried to put her jumbled mind back together until she pushed open the door and came face to face with the mystery man.

He stood barely a foot from her, not meeting her gaze, standing like a scolded schoolboy outside the principal's office.

She held the large bag of bird feed against her chest, as if to protect herself, but her heart remained steady. She didn't feel fear, didn't feel anxiety and didn't feel the constant unease that came with her moments alone with Ed. This felt like a blank sheet of paper, and for some reason a smile tickled the corners of her mouth.

They stood in silence for a moment; the bird's trilling the only thing filling the space between them. She noticed the dead rabbit hanging from his waist, the blood and dirt on his hands that hung loosely by his sides and the mix of salt and pepper bristles that were patchy across his chin.

Finally he spoke.

"Just wanted to check you got your figure," he mumbled.

"I did, thank you," Carol replied, feeling like she was on the most awkward first date of her life.

He nodded and the silence continued again.

"Why did you come back? Before, I mean? Weren't you worried I'd call the police?" Carol queried.

He shrugged.

"It looked old, but it ain't worth nothing. Thought you might want it back. And then I saw the bird was hurtin' itself."

He looked up for the first time at the birds. The dirty, straggly hair fell away from his face and Carol saw his eyes; those eyes.

"He's fine now, the bird." Carol followed his eyes into the bustling flurry on wings and beaks behind the wire.

He nodded and the silence remained. What did he want from her, why did he keep coming back, should she ignore her instincts and fear him?

"I didn't want to do it," he said suddenly, as if continuing an earlier conversation. "It's not my thing to do that to folks. I ain't like that."

Carol was lost. Did he mean what he did to the bird, to Ed, to the house? Was this a rehearsal for what he'd say to his arresting officer or the judge who would put him away?

"I had to do it for my brother," he continued, and for the first time he looked her in the eye. She nearly stumbled backwards. He was pleading, begging for understanding, for her to read between the lines and see the whole picture. The jigsaw was still a jumbled mess for her but Carol realised he was handing her pieces one by one. She didn't know why but already she knew it was a puzzle she wanted to complete. For now, she just nodded and pretended she understood although at least she understood that his brother was the man who'd tussled with Ed.

"He was good to me," she returned, offered him a piece of her own puzzle in this conversation full of chasms.

The man simply continued to look her in the eye and didn't react.

Carol squirmed under his gaze feeling suddenly utterly exposed and a part of the puzzle fitted together.

"You exposed yourself to stop him, didn't you?"

The man's gaze dropped again and she saw him hide again.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

As she looked down, she noticed the time.

"Oh, I have to go. I have to pick up Sophia," she exclaimed and started backing away down the yard. The man visibly tensed but he raised his head to look at her.

"It ain't right. You don't deserve it. You don't have to take it," he said before turning and fleeing over the back wall.

That was when Carol noticed the back of his leather vest. Grubby, peeling white wings were painted across the shoulders.

"Thank you!" she called out again, and hoped her grubby angel could still hear her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wings** Part 5/?

A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu.

Caryl

Rated: MA

Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's been so long. I have taken on board comments about the shortness of the chapters. Although they will likely remain roughly the same length (due to the way I've plotted out the events and POV chapters) I will try to compensate by always posting 2 chapters at once, one from each POV. Hope that helps and that you enjoy. :)

Daryl chewed his lip as he waited for the door to open. He was still uneasy after his face to face moment with the woman. The need to constantly move, fidget, flee was still there and he didn't know how to channel it. Eventually he heard scuffling behind the door and it opened.

"Hey, Kendra." Daryl nodded his greeting.

Danny's sister-in-law Kendra was gathering her mass of dark curls on top of her head and the hair pins in her mouth prevented her answering for a moment. She did that magic that women can do and turned the mass into a tamed bun with a couple of simple twists and the pins shoved in vigorously. It was just the way she did everything in life - fast, efficiently and leaving men confused.

"Hey. Danny or Rob?" she asked as she ushered Daryl into the cosy house, questioning which of the troublesome brothers Daryl was here to see.

"Danny," he replied and took in Kendra's nurses uniform. "Comin' or goin'?"

"Danny's out back." she replied. "And I'm coming. Just pulled a 12 hour shift. I only got puked on once and groped twice, so to celebrate I'm having a bath. Help yourself to a beer."

She nodded towards the kitchen and then headed for the bathroom, leaving Daryl alone. He wiped his hands down his jeans and headed out to the yard. He thought he might as well occupy himself with jobs that Merle wanted done, and though he liked Danny, he needed to break the news to him that the robbery hadn't gone as planned. And more importantly, that Merle was pissed.

Danny was sitting on an old plastic chair outside the garage, doing some work on an upturned mower. His long black hair was held back with a yellow and green oil stained bandana. He grinned at Daryl as he approached.

"Hey, bro, how's it hanging?" he said as Daryl hovered at the other side of the mower.

"I've got something for you from Merle," Daryl pulled out some crumpled notes from his jeans pocket and tossed them to Danny.

"Ah, my little tip pay off then?" Danny replied as he stuffed the cash into his shirt pocket.

"They came back early," Daryl replied flatly.

Danny's smile faded and he looked nervous.

"Shit, man, what happened?" he asked.

"Merle nearly got his ass handed to him and we both coulda ended up in the slammer. What the fuck do you think happened?"

"Man, how was I to know? All I do is give the facts, not my problem what happens after it's left my hands, ya know?"

"Ain't your problem? Merle's your fucking problem when he gets to you. You messed up. He ain't over the moon about that. I ain't best pleased you put me in the firing line either.

Daryl took a step and waved his arm in Danny's direction. It was a gesture not a threat but Danny reacted instinctively and leapt to his feet, sending both the lawn chair and the mower onto their sides.

Daryl took the distraction and stomped away. Danny was always the joker, the slick motorcycle of a human being who could swerve between crashes and obstacles completely unscathed and always emerging with that grin. Normally Daryl enjoyed his easy company but today the "not my business, nothing touches me" attitude riled him.

He stormed back through the house and then paused. He turned and looked back through the open doors to see Danny crouched over grappling with the mower, trying to right it. He could hear him cussing, the point of his bandana sticking out at a right angle from his head in a peak.

Daryl sighed, ran his hand through his hair and more calmlywalked to the kitchen. He took 2 beers from the fridge and trudged back out to the yard.

Danny didn't hear him coming. He righted the mower just as Daryl drew up to his elbow and nudged his arm with the cold beer bottle.

Danny looked up briefly, took the bottle and swallowed a good glug whilst Daryl pulled up the other bashed plastic chair.

They sat drinking in silence for a moment before Daryl felt that the air had cleared.

"The little girl got sick, so they came back."

Danny nodded in reply to Daryl's statement. Daryl knew his apology was accepted even if it was unspoken.

"I think her name's Sophie," Danny replied. "She's a nice kid. She brought me out some lemonade one day, called me sir and everything. Not like some of those middle class freaks that wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire."

Danny had been a gardener and odd job man around the suburb for as long as Daryl had known him. He was on a promise to stay on the right side of the law, in exchange for bed and board with his brother and Kendra. He kept to his word, but it didn't stop him dancing along the line, mostly with other men's wives. And it didn't leave him with much respect for the men who paid him in cash and kept the women that Danny entertained when the husband's went to work.

"The guy's a dick though, her father, ain't he?" Daryl replied, getting to the heart of the matter.

Danny shrugged. "No more than any of the other weekend barbeque gods who look down on us shits with dirt under our nails."

"He beats his wife," Daryl stated plainly.

"Shit, really? What an ass. Probably trying to compensate for having a tiny dick."

Daryl was surprised. "You been with her?"

"Naw, that's what most of my lovely desperate housewives tell me is the reason Mr Volvo can't please them like Danny Lover can?" Danny was back on comfortable conversational ground as he grinned, clearly revelling in warm memories of conquests past.

"She knock you back?" Daryl asked, trying to exhibit an air of indifference he didn't feel.

Danny gave a small chuckle.

"She should be so lucky! There's no way I'd... "

Before he could finish his sentence, Daryl interrupted.

"What the fuck? Just cause she's ain't got fake tits hanging out of a baby-doll she's not good enough? I don't recall you having such high standards when you were screwing that fat barmaid who coulda been your grandma!" he spat.

Danny practically choked on his beer, and raised his hands in defence.

"You want to give me a chance to finish? I was going to say there's no way I'd get near her as she's always got that little girl attached to her. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? What's got your panties in a wad?"

Daryl felt his blood pressure settle again and felt like an idiot. If he couldn't control his emotions around Danny, how was he going keep his actions secret from Merle?

"If Merle finds out what I've done, he's gonna hand me my ass."

"Oh, now we're getting to the juicy part!" Danny sat up straighter, delighting in someone else's tricky life dilemmas. "What you done? You ain't smoked all the profits have ya? Easy to do."

"I punched out the guy, knocked him cold."

"What guy? Who you talking about? And I'd have thought Merle gave out medals, or at the very least a pat on the back for knocking some douche out?" Danny wasn't following Daryl's roller-coastering thoughts.

"Mr Barbeque; Mr Volvo; that pencil-pushing dick that beats his wife."

Danny frowned and waited for Daryl to continue.

"When they came back Merle made a run for it, left me stuck there in the kitchen with Mr and Mrs duking it out right in front of me. I had a prime location to watch the guy blame his wife for everything and drive the point home with his fists.

Verbalising what he'd seen and done was odd for Daryl. It all seemed to make so little sense when he tried to explain why he'd done what he had.

"So I stepped in and set him right. He didn't see me coming."

Danny chuckled and buried his head in his hand. "Merle will kick your ass! " he exclaimed. "What were you thinking? You got a hero complex or something? You want to start wearing your tighty-whiteys outside your pants? Or have you got some damsel in distress fetish?"

Daryl's eyes dropped at the phrase that was edging close to the truth.

"Ahhh" Danny continued, responding to the change in Daryl's demeanour. "Couldn't stand by and see the maiden hurt, huh? Well, gotta admire that, and you're here so I'd say you got away with it."

"I went back." Daryl confessed, deciding he needed to get it of his chest and maybe in the process make sense of what in hell he was doing.

Danny threw is head back and laughed. "Oh man, you really have a death wish going on? What you go back for? See if you could finish the job or see if Mrs Pencil-Pusher would welcome you back with open arms and open legs?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I just wanted to see I she was okay? He might'a come round and shot her for all I knew. She might'a got the blame."

"All very noble, my friend, but Merle ain't gonna be as understanding as me. I don't imagine he's of the belief that you gotta save a girl's ass in order to see it."

"It ain't like that" Daryl shot back, "it just ain't decent. No real man does that."

"So what happened when you went back? Was it a nice cosy dinner for 3?"

"He wasn't there. She thanked me. That's it."

Danny nodded sagely. "It's not though, is it? Or you wouldn't be going like my aunt Elsa with PMT at the mention of it. Well, know man, I ain't gonna spill to anyone but it's a dangerous park to play in. I've had many years practice and I still sometimes find myself climbing out bedroom windows in my underwear. And Rob ain't exactly Merle. I know when I've got it good. My own room, square meal and occasionally accidentally walking in on Kendra in the bath. I don't like Rob's rules but we gotta do what we gotta do. And you gotta keep Merle from choking the life out of you. And he'll do it if you risk him getting ID'd and sent to jail. Although probably be safer for you if that's where he ended up, least you'd be out of Merle's reach if he's behind bars."

Danny was right. Daryl couldn't explain why he'd risked it to go back again ...and again. But now he knew she was okay, he should put it behind I'm and forget about it. That's it exactly what he'd do. It was.

It wasn't. Oh, he was cool at first. Merle was back from his trip with cash in his pocket and some Cuban cigars that he was going to hawk. Daryl was the go-to man, dropping off boxes to bars, clubs and rich guys who didn't ask questions. But almost every day he'd find himself driving past that turn-off; The one he knew would lead him back to the trees, to the yard, to the birds. Every day at that point she'd come into his mind.

He could see her face from the last time he'd been there, free of bruises with a hint of a smile in her eyes; shining blue eyes; her whispy, silver hair fluttering in the breeze like the feathers on a new born chick.

Why had he told her about Merle? Was it the same reason he'd gone back there? She had some pull on him he didn't understand.

Maybe he saw his mother in her, maybe he saw himself. Maybe he just saw someone in a situation that wasn't right. He just knew that the more the days passed, she more she refused to fade from his mind. In fact, every day the pull grew stronger.

Eventually that pull brought him through the woods and once again vaulting over the wall into the family's back yard.

There was no one there. She wasn't at the window.

He rounded the corner to the bird house door. It was locked. He began to suspect she wasn't here at all and he couldn't decipher if he felt relief or disappointment, like a gambler who finds the bookie's gone home.

He saw the bird he'd saved hopping around on one of the perches. It looked happy enough and didn't seem to have any long term effects from its mishap. Maybe he'd saved its life. Maybe all he'd done was prolong a painful, miserable life. Maybe he had no business getting involved when all his life he'd done nothing but hunt and destroy beautiful things in life that had a chance for happiness. He wasn't the Pied fricken' Piper. He couldn't lead anything or anyone to a better life.

"He's recovered well. I think he just wanted a bit of attention. He's always the troublemaker."

Daryl was stunned to find her standing alongside him, looking in at the birds. Call himself a tracker? She's approached without him being the slightest bit aware of her presence... Or was he?

He turned and took in her profile as she cooed and whistled gently at the birds, her slender fingers wrapping round the wire and rattling it gently.

He had no idea what to say. He couldn't say why he was here, what he wanted. He wasn't about to ask for a cup of iced tea and to sit at the kitchen table and make small talk. He was a moron. He'd had days and days to think about this, but all he'd ever thought about was seeing her again. Then he'd shake his head and move on. He'd never considered this part.

"Look at him, hopping about like he owns the place. He's smug now. He thinks he's special because he has his own guardian angel that showed up at just the right moment to help him. He boasting that you've come to see him again. Always coming to see he's okay. And he's just fine." she continued. Was she nervous, or just filling the awkward gap he was leaving?

Daryl felt something inside him waiver and crumble. He didn't know what it was but he wanted to run and keep running and yet at the same time to never leave this spot.

He put both hands up against the wire, as if holding on would stop his world spinning.

"See? Look at him now, it's like he's saying "hey Carol, check me out flapping his wings", but he never takes off. He's just testing them out."

As Carol talked, she moved her hand to point into the corner of the shed and her hand brushed against Daryl's.

Daryl leapt about a foot in the air and Carol turned her head to look at him. That was when he saw it.

Her left eye was so swollen it was barely open. The whole left side of cheek was a gruesome swirl of purple and red.

She swiftly turned her head away again.

"It was my fault" she said, her voice much quieter now. "I didn't fill the insurance form in right, so they won't pay out. Ed's right, I should have let him do it."

Daryl clenched his hands against the wire, feeling it dig into his rough ringers and palms.

"I did this to ya," he muttered.

Carol turned round to him fully, her good eye shining blue and earnest while the left eye wept.

"No. If it wasn't this, it'd be something else. I don't blame you. He's just got worse lately."

Daryl couldn't reply. How often was this woman going to have to pay for his mistake? Suddenly he realised why he kept coming back. He had to pay her back, repay the debt, take away what he'd brought onto her shoulders.

Without thinking he reached out and gently touched her bruised cheek. She flinched but he didn't know if it was from pain or fear. Her gaze never wavered.

"You better go. Ed's coming home for lunch today," she said quietly.

Daryl nodded and stepped back.

"Will I see you again... ?" she almost mumbled.

Daryl nodded again and felt something flicker inside when he saw that it brought a gentle smile to her damaged face.

He knew this wall-jumping and snatched moments mess wasn't enough, it wouldn't fix what was broken and it wouldn't satisfy the growing need in him. He needed to do more to set things right. He had the beginnings of an idea but he'd need to talk to Danny first, and he'd need to find some way to explain it to Merle without his own face ending up like her's. Her's. She'd said her name. Carol. Carol.

He rolled her name around in his mind and tasted it on his tongue as he whispered it into the air on his bike ride home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wings** Part 6/?

A Walking Dead AU fanfiction by Ikkleosu.

Caryl

Rated: MA

Summary: Merle Dixon convinces his brother to help him rob the house of the Peletier family. Daryl Dixon isn't so sure it's a good idea. He thinks robbing people's houses makes you somehow get involved in their lives. He doesn't realise how right he is.

Carol couldn't help but smile. She'd been that way since the last visit from her angel. It wasn't that she spent all her time thinking about him; in fact she tried not to.

The more she thought about him, the less sense it made. How a man - a criminal - who had broken into her house, robbed her, assaulted her husband; how he could now become some kind of friend or something was just too crazy to consider. There was too much about him that was unknown, too much that didn't make sense. All she knew was what she felt, and that was what occupied her mind.

She kept to her routine, did her best not to alert Ed to any changes but it was hard. Her face was healing and Ed's calmness was fleeting. If she was too happy he'd be suspicious and angry. So she waited until the hours she was alone. As she made the house as spotless as Ed liked, she'd hum and sometimes even sing.

It was a long time since she'd really listened to music. Ed didn't like it. It irritated him. He preferred talk radio, news and sports - things that were black and white, facts and figures. Music was confusing; it made you feel too much.

So Carol sang snatches of things she remembered, songs she heard in the grocery store, nursery rhymes she'd taught t Sophia, hymns and choruses and songs her mother used to sing while she baked.

And she was spending hours in the yard. Every afternoon, she'd put on her wide brimmed hat and her knee pads and get down in the dirt. Planting, weeding, raking, digging and all the time keeping an eye out for his hands on the wall signalling a visit from her angel.

And that was where she was on Saturday afternoon. He'd never come on a Saturday, he probably wouldn't, but all the same she felt the need to be out there.

For so many years this house had been a fortress a jail and a safe house all at once. In here she was protected but vulnerable. In here she'd let years pass without thinking about the outside world too much. Life was her and Sophia and Ed. Making them happy was her life. Then suddenly there he was; the outside world in all its confusing, conflicting glory, bang in her dining room.

Something had changed within her it was as if by breaking and entering he'd shattered the windows in her life and let the light flood in. He had brought shafts of light streaming into her home and suddenly she could see the dust floating around her stagnant life.

Now every day the house seemed to grow smaller. There seemed to be less air and the light was showing up every flaw and crack. At times she couldn't bear to be in there. At least out here she could breathe.

"Make sure you take off your yard shoes before you come in the house this time," Ed said gruffly as Carol walked past him smoking a cigarette by the door. "You better not mess up that tiled floor again."

"Yes, Ed," was all Carol replied.

She knelt down in front of the patch she was currently working on and started digging out weeds with her trowel.

After a minute she heard Ed stub out his cigarette and approach. He stood behind her, saying nothing, simply looming. She tried not to tense up and carried on her work, all the time waiting mentally for it to come.

"You've got it looking real nice," Ed said quietly, and he laid his hand on her shoulder.

It almost made her flinch more than a punch. It had been weeks since he'd said anything that could be considered nice.

"Yeah, real nice… " he said quietly and patted her shoulder.

Carol looked up and gave him a tight smile. It was all she could do not to cry. Why now? Was he reading her mind? Could he sense her joy that was coming from another man?

"I'm going to meet Larry at the club," he said as he walked away and got into his car.

Carol gave him a quick wave and then buried her head. It was as if he knew he was being rough on her, or knew he needed to give her some token of his heart. But why now? Why not when his fist was pounding into her side or his palm was slapping across her cheek?

Suddenly she felt guilty and scared.

That was how Sophia found her, sitting on her knees in front of her new herb patch staring into space.

"Mom... MOM!" Sophia called from the side of the house.

Carol finally looked up and smiled. Her beautiful daughter was standing awkwardly trying to look cool next to her friend Melody. Melody lived down the street and Carol wasn't hugely fond of her. She was glad Sophia had a friend to play with but Melody was almost 2 years older than her, and Carol could tell she was going to be a nightmare teen. She was already mercurial and spoiled and would sometimes abandon Sophia midgame if things weren't going her way. Thankfully Sophia didn't take these tantrums to heart, but she did clearly idolise the girl and that worried Carol.

"Mom, can Melody and me make some lemonade for the gardening man? It's really hot, he looks really sweaty. We think he needs a drink."

Carol chuckled t herself. This was no doubt Melody's idea. Maybe she took after her Mom, who Carol had heard was known to take the gardener inside for more than a drink. Of course, Sophia had given Danny drinks before, under Carol's say so but Sophia's demeanour was different this time. Maybe this was the start of the boy crazy years. Carol hoped not. She was still a little girl in so many ways.

"Of course you can, sweetie. And I told you before, his name is Danny. Call him Mr Danny until he tells you otherwise."

"No, ma'am" Sophia replied, shaking her head.

Carol frowned. "What do you mean no?"

"It's not Danny, Mrs Peletier," Melody interjected. "It's a new man."

Carol frowned again. She didn't like the sound of this. Was some conman posing as the gardener or maybe someone was trying to steal Danny's route? Did loyalty count for nothing? She knew he was doing more than trimming some of her neighbour's lawns but that was their business. He was a hard worker, fast and clean and always polite and cheery. She decided to investigate this imposter.

"You girls go into the kitchen and get the lemonade. I'm just going to talk to the gardener."

Carol stood up, dusted off her knees and walked round the house to investigate. She heard the mower and saw the silhouette o the man pushing it around the Randall's front yard. It certainly wasn't Danny. She pulled the hat off her head and walked around the sidewalk to get a better look at the man. Just as she got out of the direct line of the sun, he reached the end of the yard and turned to cut the next row back towards her.

She gasped. It was him - her angel. Was it coincidence? Fate? He must have known what street he was coming to?

He looked up and saw her. A slight smile teased across his face before he looked bashfully down and carried on cutting the grass until he reached Carol. He pulled up in front of her, stopped the mower and pulled a red rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his face.

"What are you doing here? Like this? If Ed recognises you he'll call the police, if he doesn't kill you himself."

"He won't," the man calmly replied.

Carol took him in properly. He did look different. Gone were the leather jacket and vest. He wore a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and a faded green checked shirt was tied around his waist. But there was something else.

As he pushed the damp hair back from his face she realised it was now a dark coffee brown instead if the sandy fair she'd remembered.

"You dyed your hair," she whispered.

He didn't acknowledge her statement.

"What are you doing here? How did you know about this?" she continued.

"Danny's expanding the business," he replied, as he wiped the handle of the mower with his rag. "He's got more work than he can handle. He thought I'd be a good fit to take over the franchise for this area."

Carol suddenly clicked on. Danny. He was the one who'd tipped them off they would be away for the weekend. Oh he's good. Gets inside every house, lets them know what's worth taking and which houses will be empty. She couldn't believe how she'd been mentally defending him.

Suddenly she felt suspicious and scared. Was she just another part of this plan? Was she being played to... well, she didn't know to what end, but she didn't like it.

"Was this Danny's idea? Is that what this is all about, act like you care and get access? You think I'm like these idle women desperate for a bit of attention? Show up a few times like some hero and I'll let you in my bed ? Maybe you think I'll just hand over the keys to my car and give you the contents of my checking account? " Carol bristled.

She felt hot and scared and guilty all at once. What if she was exactly what Ed had always said? She was a niave, gullible idiot. He'd always said he was protecting her from the men who'd manipulate and make a fool of her, and here she was doing everything he'd always warned her against.

She'd chosen Ed because he was honest and upfront and plain. He wouldn't ply her with booze and pretty words and lies like those men who would still leave her hurt and heartbroken. With Ed she knew upfront always what he was thinking and feeling. Why had she forgotten it all with a handful of appearances from this man?

He visibly tensed in front of her.

"Lady, I ain't no hero and I ain't trying to act like one. I'm an idiot, but I'm not that stupid." He growled. "I was stupid enough to follow my brother through your back door, but the rest of the stupid moves were all my own. I ain't here on anyone else's say so. And if I was trying to get into your bed, I'd say I'm doing a pretty shit job of it seeing as you're standing in your neighbour's yard screamin' at me."

"Then what do you want? Why are you here? Why are you interested? I don't understand what's happening?" Carol felt her throat tense up. Her heart, her instinct whatever you want to call it had told her to trust him. To believe in him, but she was scared she was simply desperate and this completely unsuitable man was simply a life raft she was clinging to -even if the raft was covered in bear traps. What if she was blinding herself simply because he offered something she'd been missing for so long? Hope.

Before he could answer, Carol heard the whispering giggly voices of Sophia and Melody and the clinking of ice in glass.

The girls approached them, Sophia carefully carrying the tumbler of cool lemonade as Melody excitedly skipped beside her.

"Here's your drink Mr... ?" Melody asked as Sophia shyly held out the drink.

"Daryl," he replied as he took the glass and gulped at the iced liquid.

Daryl. Carol gathered her thoughts and returned to mother mode.

"Mr Daryl, this is my daughter Sophia and this is her friend Melody. Her mother is Mrs Michaels at 426."

Daryl simply nodded.

"And I'm Mrs Pelletier, Carol." She held out her trembling hand to shake his. Daryl looked at the outstretched hand. He wiped his own down the front of his T-shirt before taking it.

His hand get rough and warm and large wrapped around hers. Carol didn't want to let it go. She felt they may have held on to it a second longer than was etiquette, before his hand shot back to his side.

"Mr Daryl is taking over the yard work from Danny. Don't you girls go pestering him. Let him get on with his work," Carol warned the 2 fidgety girls who were standing in awe of the sweaty, muscled man.

Carol suddenly saw him through their eyes and it made the heat rise up her neck.

The girls nodded seriously before walking back to the house clutching each other and giggling. As their noise drifted away, the silence suddenly made Carol hyper aware of his presence.

"It didn't feel right, sneaking around like that. I don't like it. I ain't no peeping Tom, " he said quietly. "I just wanted to fix what we broke and then I saw that bird. I knew it was trapped and scared and needed help. I wanted to help is all."

He shrugged again.

Carol felt her heart return to normal. She knew what he meant. She saw the truth in him. Saw a young man behind worn eyes. A man who cared, a man lost, a man who didn't know how to change who he was but just knew that somehow the change had to come. She knew it because it was a reflection of herself. And she also knew that change had started for both of them the day he entered her house.

"I'll let you get on with your work," she managed to say before she walked back to her yard.

She watched him for the rest of the afternoon as he went from yard to yard. She worked in her own patch and went back and forth into the house doing chores and tending to Sophia's needs. But every time she was outside he seemed to sense it and he'd look up. Their eyes would meet for a second and Carol once again felt the assurance that her instincts were right.

The jigsaw was still jumbled in front of her, but she felt that all the pieces were there and over time she was going to be able to put it together. His presence told her that, and she felt comforted and excited at once.

That was, until Ed's car turned round the corner and into sight. As soon as she saw it, her heart sank and reality slammed back into her.

He pulled up into the drive, got out and kissed her on the cheek as she met him out front. She asked him if he'd had a good time and half-listened to his answer as the whole time she felt Daryl's eyes burning into the back of her head.

Her angel was watching and she was scared that soon watching wouldn't be enough, for either of them.


End file.
